Incarnation
by Saerzion
Summary: They met before in another life, as different people, in a different time. Nick Valentine now exists as a synthetic incarnation, but the Sole Survivor remembers the man of flesh and blood.


Irene watched him from the corner of her eye, identifying the subtle mannerisms she should have recognized sooner.

He inspected his metal hand and used a screwdriver to adjust the bolts. Instead, she saw a callused hand of skin and bone rotating at the wrist to alleviate the overworked joints. He swiped his fingers over his faceplate as if wiping it clean of dust and grime. Instead, she saw him massaging his forehead, his brow creased and wrinkled as his work stress took its toll. He lit a cigarette and paused before taking the first puff, and then continued with his smoke without saying a word. Instead, she saw him hesitate while reaching for his lighter, but then he flicked it on, anyway, muttering that lung cancer ranked as the least of his problems.

All of it resonated so clearly now, a bittersweet sight in this derelict world. Every action he took, she saw the equivalent from the past. The man in front of her, and the man she saw in his place… the two were separate people, and yet one and the same.

She supposed she already knew from the moment he had introduced himself in Vault 114. Even with more than two hundred years stretching between their last meeting and the present day, she had never forgotten Nick Valentine. Down to his fedora hat and trench coat, the details remained intact. Obvious synth-human differences aside, every behavior and trait proved accurate in its emulation.

The confirmation of his identity came just hours before, when he confided in her about dealing with the "real" Nick's memories. She had held her breath, waiting, hoping, but the only names he mentioned belonged to the late fiancée and the old enemy. He sought vengeance and closure, and she agreed to help him obtain both. He shared no evidence of further recollections.

He gave no indication that he remembered her.

However, in a twist of fate, Eddie Winter did.

She had walked into that bunker knowing exactly who they would be facing. The ghoulified criminal took one look at her and balked as if the angel of death had appeared. In some ways, it had.

" _You… I never forget a face in court. You're that fucking intern from the trial. Over two hundred years ago!" he had screeched. "How are you still around and looking like that? What are you, some goddamn ghost?"_

" _I'm not the one you should be worried about," she had answered, gesturing to Nick, who materialized from the shadows. "You want a ghost, here he is. The lead cop on your case. And let me tell you… he's got a hell of a grudge."_

One overdue death later, case closed, justice served. Nick seemed to put it all behind him, but a somber mood still hung in the air. He then requested isolation—together. And now here they stood. They had traveled this distance to the darkened shores of a silent beach under the starless sky.

He caught her staring at him again, but refrained from speaking. The yellow glow of his eyes cut through the night, offering windows to the replicated soul inside. She turned away when she recalled something else, and only now did she realize she had brought them to a very specific site. To their left and right, broken lamp posts lined the deck of the commercial seaside district. She gripped the rusted railing and leaned forward against it, gaze locked on the black waves lapping against the sand below.

"How are you holding up, Nick?"

"Fine, just fine," he assured her from a mere few feet away, but his voice sounded so distant amidst the stretch of the open water.

She dared not glance at him. Knowing that tone, she imagined a dishonest smile stretching over his mouth to feed her the well-intentioned lie. His attempts to free himself of the old world had helped his focus, but laying it to rest was something else entirely. So long as he stayed exposed to her presence, the past would never dissipate. And even if he remembered nothing, the pictures remained vivid in the farthest corners of her mind.

"I just want you to be all right," she told him, her long dark hair picking up the breeze.

"I am. Don't worry."

" _Relax, Irene. You pre-law interns are always so anxious. I can handle myself. All part of the job, you know."_

She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to smother the echoes. "Sorry. I guess I care too much."

Nick shifted, rotated toward her. "Well, that's something I'll never complain about. I know I've said this before, but I truly value your friendship."

" _Say, Irene… I was hoping we could be more than friends at this point. There's just something about you…"_

She lowered her head and smiled, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his metal hand and give it a tight squeeze. "Yeah. Me, too."

But when she made to let go, he held on fast. Perplexed, she turned to peer at him, an inquiry at the tip of her tongue. He studied the simple physical contact, metal and skin clasped together in the joining of their hands. A solemn quality tinged his features, and the quiet drew on as the seconds ticked by. She scanned his expression, searching for some hint of his thoughts behind the metallic visage. When her anticipation rose, she gave hope a try.

"Do… you remember?"

He hovered there, unmoving, before lifting his eyes. "There's significance to this place," he remarked, still gripping her hand as he called her out on their current location. "Walk me through it."

Irene started in surprise, but her rising elation quickly plummeted when a flush filled her cheeks. "Walk you through… what occurred here? But Nick, we—"

"Just… do it," he said in his gruff timbre, taking a step closer as his gaze bore into her. "Please."

She blinked up at him, mouth opening and closing as she attempted to gauge how much he really knew. His inscrutable countenance revealed little of the workings within. Had a faint memory surfaced? Did he want her assistance in recovering it? Had he figured out who she was in the previous era? The speculations fired off one after another in her subconscious, encased in a spinning box of guarded optimism.

Finally, she swallowed and placed her free hand on his chest. "Well, it was something like…"

 _He grunted as she shoved him against the brick exterior of Revere Beach's waterfront shop, chuckling deep in his throat when her vixen smile appeared in the luminescence of the streetlights. At this time of night, the beach station usually stood empty. His fedora had fallen somewhere close to the shore, and the wind rustled his hair as she closed the distance between them. Her fingers came up to curl into the front flaps of his trench coat, the steady beat of his heart pounding hard under her touch._

She pressed on his metal sternum until he took the cue to begin moving backwards, the churning gears of his locomotive abilities sending vibrations beneath her palm. No pulse, only machinery. He never took his eyes off hers as they moved to a familiar position against the brick wall of a rundown building. Her brow furrowed when they came to a stop, and she faltered when facing him up close like this. His physical features resembled nothing of the original, but everything else struck her hard.

After a long hesitation, he tilted his head and murmured, "I'm waiting."

Irene bit her lip, her line of vision directed at his chest. "It's still not coming back to you?"

"Help me piece it together."

She exhaled, dragging her fingers down across his torso as she did. "You can't guess what happens next?"

 _Her nails raked into his back through his cotton dress shirt as he moved his lips across her throat. She made a small sound when he switched their positions to push her up against the bricks. The top three buttons of her satin blouse hung open, and he held her in place as he lightly bit down on the flesh of her breast._

Nick said nothing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His stare remained constant, piercing in the darkness. Despite her wish to help him remember, she wavered beneath the intensity of his eyes.

 _The summer breeze felt warm even at night, something she was grateful for when he hiked up her pencil skirt. Her garter belt had already snapped, and she felt the heat of his fingers through the runs in her sheer hosiery when he gripped her leg and hooked it around his waist. The rough surface of the wall dug into her back, but she paid it no mind as he grabbed at his belt to undo the buckle._

"If you still can't recall it, then I'm sorry for this," Irene stated in a hoarse tone as she took hold of his collar and pulled him in close.

She kissed him long and hard, feeling the pliable material of his faceplate, accepting the difference, the reality that the man she knew was long gone. He stiffened at her action, freezing to perfect stillness. She drew back once he did, averting her gaze and releasing his attire.

"Like I said. Sorry," she told him, remorse and sadness winding through her midsection.

He seized her elbow when she tried to step away, his grip vicelike, almost painful. "No. That isn't it," he insisted, voice more gravelly than usual. "There's something you're not showing me."

Irene stared up at him, wide-eyed and cornered. _Wait. Is this a blatant attempt to… Christ, this cheeky bastard. He already knows._

 _Her breathing came in short, desperate gasps. She surrendered to the thrill of the moment, moaning his name when he increased the rhythm of his thrusts. His fists pressed against the wall on either side of her, his face buried in the junction of her neck and shoulder. She balanced herself on one leg as the other remained wrapped around his waist. The sound of the lapping waves provided the only ambient noise around them, effectively disguising the vulgar noises of his hips rocking against hers._

He motioned to the very spot. "For instance… what was it again that had you crying out and screaming so loudly over here?"

"Damn it, Valentine," she hissed when she caught the sly smirk under the shadow of his hat.

 _She clamped onto his shoulders when he groaned and plunged deep inside her, feeling him tense as he rode out his climax. While she hadn't been sated, this marked the first instance of a long future together. Not too shabby, she thought, for a pre-law intern with the top detective in Boston wrapped around her finger._

"You remembered me all along, didn't you?" Irene demanded, yanking her elbow free. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

The traces of a smile pulled his lips upward. "I confess I wanted to relive part of it, but wasn't sure if you'd oblige when dealing with this new body of mine."

She glared at him. "So you're using underhanded tactics now to see how far I'd go?"

"I got the feeling you'd figure it out before you really did anything," Nick explained, sliding his hands into his pockets and taking on a stoic pose. "But of course I would have put the brakes on it if it got too risqué."

She worked through a range of reactive emotions, from indignation, to anger, to relief that he'd known after all. Once she composed herself, she settled on curiosity. "You didn't answer my question, though. We tied your loose ends, but you never mentioned any memory of me from before. Why?"

His smile vanished, and he shifted his eyes to the ground. "These memories of you, Irene… they're kind of fuzzy and blurred, as if they were meant to be suppressed. For a while, I wasn't sure it was you, but when I learned who you were, a combination of adoration and resentment came out of the blue." He glanced at her, no accusation in his words, but they bit just the same. "Because didn't you break Nick Valentine's heart?"

The question left her speechless, and the old tendrils of guilt came creeping back. She retreated a few paces, too ashamed to hold his gaze. Only now was she aware that she really had begun differentiating between the two. While she could interact with the synth just fine, she couldn't meet the original's eyes.

And on some deeper level, perhaps that was what she had really been after when hoping he would remember.

"Yes," she admitted. "I'm the one who squandered the relationship."

He moved to stand in front of her again. "What happened to us?"

She fiddled with the wedding ring still on her finger. "I met Nate, my future husband. I was still young, a lot younger than Nick, and I chose the man closer to my age." She shook her head and chanced a look at her companion. "The worst part was that I only thought of myself. I didn't care at the time that Nick had already been planning to propose. I just… walked out on him."

The synth seemed to process that, and he reached out to brush his knuckles over her cheek. "Is that something you regret?"

Irene shrugged, trying to verbalize the complicated answer. "I loved my husband, and I wouldn't have changed a thing about our time together. But Nick…" She heaved a sigh and made a helpless gesture. "Now that I'm older, I wish we had parted on better terms. I know you're not actually him, but I just want to say I'm sorry."

Nick regarded her in silence, a reaction that left her uneasy. She wouldn't blame him if he had developed several negative notions about her by this point, but still she braced herself. The younger version of her had made some ill-thought-out decisions, and now, as a widowed mother searching this post-nuclear world for her kidnapped child, she felt almost completely detached from her past self. It took the end of the world to force her growth as a person. She might have pointed this out to Nick, but she suspected he already realized it.

The last time they had met, they had both been different people.

"You said yourself I'm not actually him, so I reckon forgiveness isn't mine to give," Nick replied at last.

She inclined her head, receptive to the fact. "I know. Maybe this is something we can move on from—"

"But if you don't mind the synth version, this could be our second chance."

Irene stopped, gaped at him. It took her a few moments to register his words. "What?"

"Just know this: no pressure. But I've inherited his past. His thoughts, his personality, his emotions. You're a part of it all, and now you're here in the present," Nick declared. "Think for a second how that affects the way I see you. The 'real' Nick's heartbreak aside, you've become someone I'd do anything for."

She struggled to bring her failing vocal chords back to life as she considered it. A second chance? Did she deserve such a thing when it came to her history with Nick Valentine?

"And if that kiss you just planted on me was any indication…"

"Um," she interjected, fidgeting in place. "Look, this has come up kind of abruptly. I just have a lot on my mind right now, and romance hadn't quite crossed it yet. But," she hurried on when he opened his mouth to respond, "I can feel it, too. That lingering connection. Let's go about this one day at a time and see where it takes us. All right?"

He tipped his hat to her, the new smile on his face genuine and warm. "Sounds reasonable to me."

She nodded, unable to contain her answering grin. "Never could resist your charm, Mr. Valentine."

He reached for her hand again and tugged her toward him as the night wore on. "I know."

x-x-x-x-x

 **A/N:** If anyone needs me, I'll be crawling under a rock and pretending this story of my favorite wingman didn't just veer off in this direction. Hope you enjoyed it because I refuse to admit I did. (I totally did.)


End file.
